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Runes To My Memory by Silent Witness

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Story notes: This story is set about two months after the conclusion of "Prisoners of Fate." It is currently on hiatus until "Prisoners of Fate" is completed, at which time I will resume writing.
Chapter notes: Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

It was a warm, delightful summer day in Konoha. The green grass of the meadow grew long, blanketing Mother Earth with a soft cushion of life. The trees lining the meadow swayed softly in the gentle summer breeze, swaying in a placid, rhythmic ecstasy. This tender dance was accompanied by the joyous performance of a songbird chorus, playing their merry tune in the spotlight of golden sunshine filtering through the tree canopy.

One could search all their life for a nicer day, never find one, and their life would not have been wasted. Even so, someone was unhappy. Surrounded by the reverie, this melancholy adolescent shinobi-in-training was a patch of dull gray on the vibrant canvas of the meadow. Perhaps it is true that one must have a contrast in order to truly understand anything; joy is meaningless without sorrow to provide a foil. But, such wisdom is seldom comforting to those who are filled with sorrow. For young Shinmen Musashi, as our young friend is called, life has been anything but a cause for joy. Having never known his father, the death of his mother three short years ago was the cruelest of blows. While his grandfather may have stepped into to take care of his physical needs, his emotional needs were far from met. No one can replace a mother, especially at such an age. Death, for a time, seemed to be the only option, as the faded white scars on Musashi’s wrists testify to.

But, life goes on, whether we want it to or not. Musashi let out a long sigh, and pulled his legs closer to his body, withdrawing into a sitting fetal position. His unkempt black hair swished back and forth in the gentle breeze as he leaned back to rest his body on the great Oak tree he sat under. He whispered softly to himself, “Mother… why did you leave me?”

A twig cracked behind him. Musashi snapped around, instinctively assuming a defensive combat stance. A familiar voice soon allayed his fears: “Your mother—my daughter—didn’t abandon you, Musashi-kun. Her death has been the greatest tragedy in both of our lives, but you must remember this: If she had the choice, you mother would have never left you alone.”

"You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that, Grandfather,” the young ninja retorted. “I nearly struck you!”

The old gray-haired ninja laughed softly, “Indeed, Musashi-kun. You have impressive reflexes for your age, but you react without thinking. The samurai’s mushin will not serve a shinobi well. But, you’ve made Genin, and should be proud of your accomplishments. Sulking in this meadow will not bring your mother back, nor make the pain of her loss any less.”

“Grandfather Munisai?”

“Yes, Musashi-kun?”

“What was being a Genin like?”

Shinmen Munisai ran his right hand through his shoulder-length gray hair and shrugged. Musashi wasn’t usually a very inquisitive boy, and so Munisai wasn’t very used to being put on the spot. “Well,” he stuttered, “there’s a great level of camaraderie. My teammates became my best friends, and we lived together, fought together and…”

“And what?”

“I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

“What is ‘it’? I want to know.”

“Alright then. What I was going to say was ‘we died together.’ Now, obviously, I’m still here. But my friends aren’t. They died…saving…my life.”

Musashi paused, slightly stunned. “Oh! I’m sorry Grandfather.”

“It’s not your fault, Musashi-kun. You didn’t know. Perhaps it is better that we talk about this. Perhaps we should also talk about your loss too.”

The young shinobi stood in reflective meditation for a moment. “Well, I guess there is no better place to talk about it then here.” He sat down under the great Oak tree, and motioned for his Grandfather to follow. The older shinobi made a thin smile, and sat down next to his grandson.

Munisai set his walking stick down, and let out a quick sigh. “You know,” he said, “I used to come here all the time when I was a boy your age. My teammates, Akane and Gendou, and I would come here when we had free time, and practice our ninjutsu, or just to loaf around and talk. Those were the days…”

Young Musashi leaned back on the tree, his hands intertwined behind his head. “I wonder who my teammates are going to be.”

"Well, Musashi-kun, whoever they are, you will get along with them just fine, and they will grow to be your best friends.”

Friend: it was such an alien word to Musashi. He didn’t think that he had any friends, or that he would ever have any. “But, Sensei said that they paired people up based on grades. Each group would be no better or worse than the next.”

“And you believed him?”

“Well, yeah. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Let’s just say that there’s more to it than just grades. Trust me, everything will be fine.” At least Munisai hoped he was speaking the truth. Sometimes, things didn’t work out so well among groups. Instantly, he thought of Team 7 and Uchiha Sasuke’s rather infamous betrayal of his comrades. Haruno Sakura and Uzumaki Naruto had no choice but to pick up the pieces of their shattered friendship with Sasuke, and try to save the misguided young boy from himself. “How old would they be now…” he thought to himself, “about eighteen, I’d guess. Six years removed from Musashi-kun. I hope he never has to endure something like that.

The sun slowly started to set, bathing the meadow in a golden light. “Well, Musashi-kun, I guess it’s time that we got home and made some dinner. You’ve got a big day coming up tomorrow. You should be well rested for it.”

The young ninja smiled rather weakly, hinting at a large amount of anxiety, and just a smidge of optimism to take the edge off. As they began walking back to home, Munisai thought to himself, “Trust me, lad, you’re going to need it.

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